


my heartbeat speaks your name

by fallizbian



Category: Dynasty (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Based off 3x10, F/F, Fallon Carrington is bad at feelings, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Pregnancy Scare, We all know Kirby is a lesbian but she had to be bi for the sake of the storyline, firby, i threw almost every obstacle i could think of in their way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:40:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22563400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallizbian/pseuds/fallizbian
Summary: Fallon's bisexual identity crisis 2k20(set after 3x10)
Relationships: Kirby Anders & Fallon Carrington, Kirby Anders/Fallon Carrington
Comments: 9
Kudos: 61





	my heartbeat speaks your name

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to write a short one-shot about 3x10 and it morphed into this monster. I will probably procrastinate my own death, so it's a little late (clearly). Title comes from "The Strength In Our Scars", a book by Bianca Sparacino.

While they’re getting thrown out of the Synergy compound, she watches Kirby lean into Joel as he swings an arm around her and presses a gentle kiss to her temple. It’s nothing more than a simple motion of affection, and she knows that Liam’s done it to her a hundred times over, but something about watching Kirby so _comfortable_ in a relationship sends her stomach into the ground and makes her want to punch a wall. She knows that Kirby dated Culhane, but they were always so careful around her and honestly, Fallon knew from the outset those two were never going to work (not that she took that chance). And of all the relationships to flaunt in her face, Kirby chooses some weird wellness guru who’s trying to steal her to Sri Lanka? Fallon throws her stupid cult necklace at the gate and takes her anger out on Adam. If he notices, she figures he’ll attribute it to her frustration at the situation.

When she sneaks back into the commune, her intent is to drag Kirby out by her stupid golden scarf kicking and screaming. This plan is firmly in place until all of a sudden she’s telling Kirby goodbye and reaching in for a hug. It’s the first (and probably last) time she’s hugged Kirby since they were kids, and she finds herself breathing in the smell of shea butter and clean linen for just a moment before pulling back. She ignores the knot in her stomach as she walks away. 

She successfully ignores this feeling until approximately 4:28AM the next morning, when she accidentally startles both herself and Liam awake from a not-so-PG-13 dream that’s definitely _not_ about the man sleeping beside her. He presses a kiss to her temple (just like Joel did to Kirby but she’s not thinking about that) as he turns on the bedside light.

“Fallon, is everything okay?” he asks, looking closely at her in the dim light. She can see the moment it clicks for him that her dilated pupils and heaving chest have nothing to do with a nightmare. His hand on her lower back shifts down and she lets him roll under her, kicking herself for being so easy to read. She tries to squeeze the dream out of her mind, but instead she finds herself drifting further and further into the fantasy. She climaxes to thoughts of long red hair and soft curves, and as Liam slips out of her she tries not to cry. 

The first time Fallon thinks about kissing Kirby, she’s in another man’s bed with him spilling out of her. Kirby’s words from earlier float back to her as an acrid taste fills her mouth and the guilt threatens to crush her chest. Fallon really isn’t sure personal growth counts for anything if you keep making the same mistakes. First Michael, now Liam. It’s not cheating, but it’s not _not_ cheating either. Unable to sleep, Fallon extricates herself from Liam’s arms to slip into the shower. She turns the water up as high as she can stand it and scrubs until her skin is raw and red. She’s not really sure which one of them she’s trying to wash away. Fallon is pretty sure she was going to hell anyways, but just in case she wasn’t, this has gotta earn her a one way ticket.

* * *

The next morning, she gets a text from Kirby asking her out to brunch. She thinks about telling Kirby that she’s at Liam’s and they’re catching up, thank you very much, but she just throws her phone across the room instead, falling face down in the pillows with a groan. 

It’s the cherry on top of her night that this is the moment Liam walks back in from his shower, hair ruffled and wearing nothing more than a towel. He chuckles, picking up the phone and tossing it on the pillow beside her. 

“Telemarketer get to you or something?” he asks, leaning down to press one of those stupid kisses to her forehead again. She’d never noticed just how often he did that before.

“Or something.” Fallon grumbles, pointedly ignoring the phone. “Kirby wants to go out to brunch.”

“This is a problem because? I thought she was your friend now. You just traveled three hours to go rescue her from that cult.”

Fallon feels her heart race, realizing she can’t exactly tell Liam that she had inappropriate thoughts about said friend while having sex with him and now she feels like looking Kirby in the face is something she can never do again. She scrambles for an excuse. “Well, yeah, which is exactly why I don’t need to spend more time with her right now. Three hours in the car yesterday was enough Kirby for me for a month. Two, if I’m lucky.”

Liam stares at her for a moment, scanning his eyes over her face. She knows he can tell she’s not telling the truth, but thankfully he’s in a good mood this morning and chooses not to pursue it. Fallon’s stomach sinks again when she thinks about the reason behind his good mood. She’s beginning to think that the oddly placed despair might be permanent.

“So are we going to talk about the fact that you walked in here last night with half your closet?” Liam asks as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants. “Or would you like to start with the hour you spent in the shower this morning?”

“All,” she says, playing with the comforter on the bed and ignoring the second question. “It was all of my closet. I moved out of the manor.”

“Wow. That’s a… big step.”

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna start looking for a place today,” she says. She swings her legs onto the floor, moving to stand up. “I didn’t come here expecting to move in with you. ”

“Why not?” She freezes where she’d been unzipping her bag to grab her toothbrush. She stares at him for a moment, so he continues, “Why not move in with me?”

It’s a question Fallon hasn’t been expecting, and her blood runs cold. “I distinctly remember you freaking out about going on a two-day trip less than a month ago,” she tells him with a nervous laugh. 

“Well yeah, but you’ve always been sure,” he says, shrugging. She’s not so sure anymore. “Move in with me. It’ll be fun.” he nudges her playfully. Fallon wants to vomit. She can read him just as well as he can her, so she watches his face fall when he realizes she won’t be moving in. 

Fallon decides against sharing the part about Kirby.

* * *

She throws her bags into the back of her convertible and drives straight to Monica and Jeff’s house. Or rather, she assumes she drives straight there- Fallon doesn’t remember anything between point A and point B. 

Jeff isn’t home, but Monica opens the door and graciously ignores the tear stains on her face as she shows Fallon to a spare room. The numbness doesn’t quite subside until Monica shuts the door on her and Fallon feels herself burst into tears. Just last night, she’d felt invincible, ready to leave home and take on the world. Today, she’s sitting in her cousins’ house all alone because she’s too afraid to have failed.

Monica slips back into her room a few minutes later, holding a mug of hot cocoa. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, rubbing Fallon’s back. Fallon leans into her.

“Moni, I messed up,” she says, and everything that’s happened in the last 24 hours comes spilling out. Monica doesn’t say anything while she talks, just sits there with her into the evening, until Fallon doesn’t think there are any tears left. 

Monica deletes Liam’s number from her phone and whisks her away for a day at the spa. Fallon’s grateful that Monica conveniently forgets to invite Kirby. As soon as this thought enters her mind, though, she’s crushed again by the guilt. 

“We should’ve invited her,” she tells Monica during a quiet moment in the sauna. Monica fixes her with a withering look. 

“Oh, okay,” Moni says. “Lemme whip out my phone and invite her up to join us for a massage later. Then you can explain to her how you and Liam fell apart.”

“I wouldn’t move in with him.” Fallon raised an eyebrow at Monica, daring her to challenge the statement. Unfortunately, Monica knows all her dirty tricks, and bulldozes right through.

“Right, I’m sure it has nothing to do with your gay panic that just so happens to involve Kirby,” she says, throwing the look right back at Fallon. 

“ _Keep your voice down_ ,” Fallon hisses, looking around the sauna as if someone would’ve snuck in without her noticing. “It’s not a gay panic. I’m not gay.”

Monica smirks. “Sure, Fallon,” she says. “Look, you don’t need to mess with labels. Just take a breather, and eventually it’ll sort itself out.”

“I’m not gay.”

* * *

It takes her two weeks (during which she ignores everyone except Moni and Jeff, so she’s pretty sure she’s running out of time) to even process what Monica had said to her. One night, she finds her mind wandering back to Kirby. Again. She feels kind of like a broken record at this point.

But this time, instead of shoving the thoughts away, Fallon lets herself sit with them for a while. She closes her eyes and pictures the way Kirby had gripped her a little bit tighter at the end of that hug. She thinks about just how fearful she was that it was going to be the last time she ever saw Kirby, and Fallon lets her mind meander down that path. 

She can picture it so vividly, the easy mornings and getting ready for the day together (she’s fairly certain Kirby would hog the bathroom, and the thought comes unbidden into her mind that she should get a place with two sinks… and maybe two showerheads, as a bonus). She can even imagine their fights over stupid things like how big a blanket hog she knows Kirby will be and Fallon working on a Saturday. She thinks she might be okay with Kirby winning if it means she gets that same happy grin as when Kirby caught up with them outside the compound. 

The next morning, sitting at breakfast with Monica and Jeff, she tries it on for size. “I think I’m bisexual,” she says, rolling the words around in her mouth for a moment.

Monica just smiles at her. Jeff chokes on a piece of bacon, coughing before catching his breath and looking at her incredulously. “Fallon, I’m sorry, I’m gonna need you to repeat that before it’ll sink in,” Jeff says. He already knows way more about her sex life than she ever really wanted a cousin to (thank you, _Grandpa_ ), so she’d elected not to tell him about the Kirby thing. As far as Jeff had known, her breakup with Liam had been entirely fueled by her refusal to move in with him.

Fallon takes a breath, placing her fork down and looking Jeff dead in the eyes. “I think I’m bisexual,” she says again. He nods, thinking for a moment.

“Is there anything in particular that prompted this realization?” Jeff asks, raising an eyebrow. Fallon stands up and walks away from the table. As she leaves, Monica throws something at him and Fallon laughs.

* * *

When Fallon wakes up from her fourth dream about Kirby, the guilt is still there, but it doesn’t threaten to envelop her quite like it did before, and it’s accompanied this time by a giddy hope. For the first time, she feels like maybe she can see all her fantasies becoming a reality. She told Monica, and she told Jeff, and the world didn’t end. She lost Liam, and there’s still a twinge in her chest when she thinks about him, but she’s learning how to live with that.

Before she can lose her sense of quiet courage, she shoots off a text to Kirby. _Drinks tonight?_ It’s nothing earth-shattering, but it’s still a step in the right direction. Monica will be proud of her. 

The reply comes faster than Fallon was expecting for 6:30AM on a Saturday. **_Sure! I have news :)_** Fallon smiles, typing back: _Me too. I’ll pick you up at the manor at 5?_ **_Sounds good! I’ll see you then :)_**

When Fallon pulls up to Carrington Manor, Kirby is nowhere to be seen. She reaches over to the passenger seat to grab her phone to text her, and a flash of movement in the window of the carriage house catches her eye. It’s Kirby, and Fallon watches an arm curl around Kirby from behind as Adam steps up to the window, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. Her blood runs cold, and she can feel the numb sweep through her body. Kirby’s with Adam. _Her_ Kirby. She stares for a moment, watching as Kirby leans back into Adam, twisting her head to kiss him. Fallon can feel her nostrils flare and her jaw clench. It’s not _fair_. She’d just figured everything out. But here she is. Alone. She’d missed her chance.

Fallon breaks herself of her trance, reaching to turn the key and get the hell away. She figures she’ll just text Kirby saying she feels sick. It’s a cop out, and it’s one Kirby will probably see right through, but frankly Fallon could care less. When she looks up to drive away, though, Kirby has spotted her through the window. Adam’s arm is still wrapped around Kirby when she waves to Fallon, holding up a finger to say she’ll be down in a minute. Her stomach twists with nausea and she hits the wheel when Kirby disappears into the house.

Kirby comes bounding out of the door, a flush on her cheeks. Fallon’s not sure whether it’s from running down to meet her or from something else she doesn’t want to think about. Kirby yanks the door open, hopping into the car and grinning at Fallon.

“I guess that cat’s out of the bag, huh?” she says. It takes an inordinate amount of focus for Fallon to keep her face even, but Kirby sees through that. “Look, I know it’s weird. I’m just as surprised as you are. But he’s actually really, uh, sweet?” She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. 

“Ew,” Fallon says, trying to mask whatever else is running through her with disgust. She shifts the car into drive, speeding out of the driveway and hoping to leave the pit in her stomach behind.

Kirby seems determined to garner her approval, though. “He just- he came all that way to save me and we went out to brunch and we connected,” she says. “I like him.”

They went out to brunch. The same brunch that she’d asked Fallon to come to, too. Because Fallon came all that way to save her, too. While Fallon had been bulldozing her relationship into the ground on account of feelings for Kirby she couldn’t even name, Kirby had been _connecting_ with her brother. 

“Liam and I broke up.” The words tumble out of Fallon before she can stop herself, and she immediately wants to reach out and yank them back into herself. She didn’t want Kirby to keep talking about Adam, but she hadn’t exactly planned to share the part about Liam so soon. 

Kirby spins around in her chair so fast her hair swipes Fallon’s shoulder. Fallon wants to squirm in her seat from the intensity of Kirby’s stare. She reaches a hand over to turn the radio on, but Kirby swipes her hand away. 

“Fallon, explain that.”

She takes a deep breath and glances over at Kirby. “It just wasn’t working,” she says flippantly, reaching again for the dial to turn the radio on. “He wanted to move in together and I wasn’t ready.” She turns it up. Kirby stares at her quietly for the rest of the drive.

* * *

When she walks back into Monica and Jeff’s, she falls face first into the couch and screams into the cushions. She hears footsteps behind her and the cushion dips as someone sits down.

“Monica, I am beyond not in the mood,” she says, her voice muffled. 

“Guess again,” the voice says, chuckling, and Fallon turns her head to look up at Jeff. “Drinks with Kirby didn’t go well?”

Fallon pushes herself up to sit next to him. “How’d you know about that?” she asks. 

“Heard you and Monica talking.” Jeff shrugs. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Fallon shifts, turning her body to face Jeff a little more. She surveys him for a moment, noting the crinkle in his brow that she’s only seen on him with Monica after she got dumped by Clark Friedman freshman year.

“You know,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him. “How do you know?”

Jeff laughs. “Fallon, you’ve been half in love with Kirby for your entire life. You’re about as subtle as a bag of bricks,” he says, dodging the throw pillow she tosses at him. “And quite frankly, you’re about as self-reflective as one, too. I’m surprised _you_ know.”

Fallon cringes, thinking about just how that realization came about. He holds up his hands.

“Got it,” he says. “I don’t wanna know.” 

“She’s dating _Adam_ .” Fallon can’t help but smile a bit at the visceral look of disgust on Jeff’s face. “I mean, I knew she had bad taste,” Fallon gestures at Jeff, “but I thought she was better than _Adam_.”

“Hey now,” Jeff says. “You didn’t think I was so bad three years ago.”

Fallon wrinkles her nose. “Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

“Look,” Jeff starts, and Fallon kind of wants to slap him for the pity she can clearly see in his eyes, “I’m sorry. Trust me when I say I don’t like her dating Adam anymore than you do. But if you say anything to her, she’s just gonna double down with him and all of a sudden you’re gonna be a bridesmaid in their wedding. Just let it play itself out. He can’t pull the wool over her eyes forever. She’s a smart girl. She’ll figure it out.”

The idea of a wedding feels like a punch to Fallon’s gut, and the worst part is that she can see it. She doesn’t think she’d ever seen Kirby in white before last week. It wasn’t the same wild and colorful Kirby she’s used to, but she was just as beautiful. Fallon can picture her walking down the aisle in a white dress with a spot of lace, probably crying because she’s the type of person who cries at weddings, holding bright pink and orange and blue wildflowers (because it’s really not Kirby without a spot of color). The mental image of Adam at the other end makes her want to throw up.

* * *

Evvie is smart and funny and kind and Fallon _likes_ her. She didn’t expect that. When Jeff had offered to set her up on a date, she’d accepted just to get him to stop pitying her. He’d refused to show her a photo, saying she’d psych herself out too much. But when Fallon had walked into the restaurant, she could tell exactly who she was meeting by the wide smile on Evvie’s face when she stood up to greet Fallon. Evvie’s wearing a long flowing red dress with a leather jacket, and Fallon catches herself thinking it might be a little low cut until she realizes that they’re on a _date_ and she likes it. Evvie is wild and put together all at the same time, and Fallon shoves the thought that she reminds her a bit of Kirby towards the back of her mind.

“Sorry, sorry,” Fallon says, realizing Evvie had asked a question she’d completely missed. She can feel a blush climbing up her cheeks. “I got a little distracted.”

Evvie doesn’t make fun of her, though. She just smiles and blushes right back and Fallon wants to reach out and kiss her. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she says. “I was just asking if you worked with Jeff. Are you in tech, too?”

“No, actually, we’re cousins,” Fallon says. “I guess I’m in business, although I’m kind of between companies at the moment. What do you do?”

“I’m a musician,” Evvie says, leaning forward with a glint in her eye. “If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll write you a song.” Fallon can practically feel the gears in her brain grind to a halt at this, and she stares at Evvie for a beat. Evvie shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “Too forward?” she asks.

“Not at all,” she says. Fallon takes a steadying breath, running her thumb over the back of Evvie’s hand. 

“Well, following along on that theme, would you wanna grab a nightcap?” Evvie asks, returning the gesture as she drags her eyes up and down Fallon’s figure.

She shouldn’t be taken aback by this. They’re getting along well. She’s certainly not a virgin, and it’s not even because she hasn’t slept with a woman before (she’s saving that anxiety for later). But every time she’s pictured herself in bed with a woman over the past few weeks, it’s been punctuated by soft giggles and hazel eyes and easy teasing. Evvie doesn’t giggle, she laughs. And she looks absolutely nothing like Kirby (Fallon’s pretty sure Jeff did this on purpose). It’s not the same. But she supposes it’s better to stop living in a pipe dream and accept the reality that Kirby will never be hers.

“Sure,” Fallon settles on, taking a steadying breath. Evvie smiles widely. Fallon feels a little bit guilty that she’s not completely present, but she shakes it off. 

“Your place or mine?”

Fallon groans. “I’m staying with Jeff at the moment. It’s a long story.”

Evvie stands, threading her fingers through Fallon’s. She pulls Fallon in, pressing a tentative kiss to her lips. Evvie pulls away a bit, and Fallon follows, chasing her lips to deepen the kiss. If she’s trying to erase what she imagined Kirby would taste like, well, Evvie will see it as eagerness. When they break apart to take a breath, Evvie has sparkles dancing in her eyes. Fallon wants to see more of that (and not because it reminds her of Kirby, she tells herself). 

“It’s fine,” Evvie says, a soothing smoothness seeping into her voice. “We’ll go to mine, and you can tell me. I’ve got time.” She presses another kiss down to Fallon’s jaw, grabbing Fallon’s jacket off the back of the chair and helping her slip her arms into it. Fallon loves the way she smells like oranges and lavender (which is to say, nothing like clean linen and shea butter).

* * *

Evvie slips perfectly into Fallon’s life in a way she doesn’t want to question too much, and Monica and Jeff are almost as enthralled by her as Fallon is. Pretty soon there are easy wine nights on the couch in front of the TV and Fallon’s stopped looking for a new place because she’s never felt quite as at home as she does with Jeff and Monica. Kirby texts Fallon a few times, and Fallon pretends not to see them. Eventually they stop. She tells herself that Evvie is a solid replacement.

Her perfectly segmented and curated life comes crashing to a halt when Monica comes home one evening with a panicked look in her eyes.

“Okay, Fallon, you’re not allowed to kill me,” she starts, holding her hand out as if to calm a wild animal. 

“Monica Colby, what did you do?” she asks evenly, trying to calm her already racing heart. There are very few times where Monica Colby is afraid of Fallon Carrington, and she’s not reassured to know this is one of those times.

“Kirby and I were having lunch, and she invited me out tonight, and I wasn’t thinking when I told her that we were going to have a quiet night here,” Monica says in one breath. “So, uh, long story short, she and Adam are coming over for drinks.”

“Well, fuck, why don’t you invite Liam while you’re at it?” Fallon rubs her temples, resisting the urge to drag Evvie as far away from the house as she can. She knows that’ll just cause more problems than it solves. “Okay, okay. Does she know about Evvie or not?”

Monica grimaces. “I left that one for you to share.” Fallon could strangle her. 

Fallon really wants the chance to prep Evvie before Kirby and Adam show up, but she’s recording until seven and Kirby and Adam are obnoxiously early. They show up together (Fallon’s not sure why she thought they wouldn’t) and Fallon’s not sure if she wants to kiss Kirby for the wine she proffers or slap her for showing up in the first place. Nonetheless, she takes the wine, passing it off to Monica with a look she hopes says there better be a big glass waiting for her on the coffee table. Kirby leans in to hug her, and a flash of panic runs through Fallon before she wraps her arms around, threatening into submission the thrill that pops up when she smells Kirby’s rose shampoo. Begrudgingly, she accepts a hug from Adam as well before taking her usual place in the corner of the couch.

As Jeff and Monica engage Adam and Kirby in conversation, Fallon sips her wine quietly, biding her time as the clock ticks past seven. She focuses her gaze on her glass or the coffee table and pretends she doesn’t notice the way that Kirby’s hand brushes Adam’s knee as she reaches for the wine to refill her own glass. 

When Evvie _finally_ texts her to tell her she’s leaving the studio, Fallon stands up abruptly, ignoring the troubled look from Kirby she gets. She slips into the kitchen, pulling a mug down from the cabinet. She almost doesn’t notice Kirby slip in behind her.

“Fallon, are you just going to ignore me all night?” she asks quietly, leaning against the doorway. “And what are you doing? Don’t you already have wine?”

“I’m making tea,” Fallon says, ignoring the rest of the questions as she takes the kettle off the heat. This isn’t really something she’s got the courage to explain yet. She grabs the honey dipper out of the container nestled back by the tea, plopping a generous amount into the mug. Evvie always drinks tea with honey after a long day in the recording studio. Making it for her has become routine for Fallon over the last month or so, and if she works hard enough, she can picture doing it for much, much longer. Mostly, she just has to block the girl standing behind her out of the picture. She’d been doing pretty damn well at that until Monica waved her magic wand and materialized Kirby into their house.

Fallon can feel Kirby’s eyes on her as she slips back into the living room, Kirby padding behind her. She settles into the couch, tucking her legs under her and breathing in the warmth of the mug to steady herself until a soft voice calls out from the entryway.

“Hello?” Fallon closes her eyes, focusing on Evvie’s voice and blocking out the stare she _knows_ Kirby is still giving her. “I’m sorry I’m so late. Brantley kept wanting to change the bridge.” She stops short when she pops into the living room, taking inventory of the newcomers sitting on the couch opposite Fallon. “Oh. Hello. I’m Evvie.”

“Hi,” Kirby says, waving from where she’s curled herself into Adam’s lap. Fallon has taken to deliberately avoiding that side of the room again. “Kirby. I didn’t realize Jeff was dating someone right now.”

Evvie lets out a laugh, the sound floating across the room. “No, he’s not,” she says, starting over towards Fallon. Fallon tenses up again as she grows near, focusing her gaze deep into the mug. “Feel free to ask him what happened with the last girl I tried to set him up with. Nope, I’m all hers. Thanks, babe.” Evvie plucks the tea out of Fallon’s arms, tucks herself into her shoulder, and collapses against her. Fallon feels herself lean right back into Evvie, taking her free hand and rubbing the callouses there to distract herself. She chances a look up towards Adam and Kirby, both of whom are struggling to keep their composure. Meanwhile, Monica’s scrunched her face up (good, she should feel guilty as hell) and Jeff is in the corner chair shaking with silent laughter.

“Ev, meet my brother Adam,” Fallon says. “And his girlfriend, Kirby.” It’s the first time she’s had to refer to Kirby as such, and the words taste like soap coming out of her mouth. She turns into Evvie a little bit more, pressing her lips to her forehead in an attempt to erase the feeling.

“A little warning would’ve been appreciated,” Evvie whispers to Fallon teasingly, her own lips brushing against Fallon’s ear. 

“She didn’t tell us about you, either, if it makes you feel better.” Kirby’s voice has a hard edge to it that Fallon thinks might be a little dangerous. She can see Kirby’s hand turning white from where she’s clutching Adam’s arm, and she can’t tell whether it’s anger, hurt, or a perfect storm of both swirling in Kirby’s eyes. She shrugs, trying to shake some of the discomfort that Kirby’s stare evokes.

“Ah, well, water under the bridge,” Evvie says lightly, waving a hand. Fallon thanks her lucky stars she’d told Evvie nobody in her family knew she was bi. Evvie’s generally shown herself to be a level-headed person, but Fallon doesn’t think she’d take kindly to being treated like a dirty little secret. Evvie spins towards Jeff, a sparkle in her eye. “So, Jeff, tell the people what happened on the last date I set you up on.”

As the night goes on, between the alcohol and the conversation, Kirby softens, the laugh returning to her face as she pipes in with a story about her own blind date experience. It’s impossible not to like Evvie, Fallon thinks, and after about an hour Evvie’s leaning forward on the couch and talking to Kirby like an old friend. It’s not exactly what she’d pictured a month ago, but Fallon feels like maybe she could get used to the happy medium. It’s the only option she really has.

By the end of the night, Fallon’s feeling warm and comfortable and maybe just over the line of tipsy. She whines when Evvie stands up, pulling her along, but Evvie just takes the opportunity to shut her up with a kiss. 

“C’mon babe,” Evvie says, “Let’s go to bed.” 

“Bed, huh?” Fallon tries to wink, but with the alcohol coursing through her system she’s pretty sure it doesn’t work quite the way she was hoping for. Her suspicions are confirmed when Evvie bursts into laughter. 

“That’s truly terrible, Fallon,” she says. “C’mon. Time for _sleep_.” She moves to drag Fallon towards the bedroom. 

“ Have fun!” Adam calls out, and Fallon watches Kirby smack him in the shoulder before turning to face Fallon and Evvie.

“Goodnight, Fallon,” she says. It’s mostly disguised, and Fallon knows Evvie doesn’t notice, but the bite’s snapped back into her voice. She’s a little bit too drunk to dissect how that happened, but damn if it doesn’t make Fallon want to cry.

* * *

Fallon texts Kirby that weekend to invite her and Adam out on a double date (in the name of personal growth and all that). She never hears back. There’s a familiar pit that makes itself at home in the bottom of her stomach.

* * *

“Kirby, you need to take a goddamn Xanax or something,” Monica says, her voice carrying down the hall to where Fallon stands. She’s definitely not supposed to be hearing this, but Kirby’s been ignoring her for the last few weeks and Fallon’s desperate for a hint as to why. Kirby’s never been one to hold a grudge. She’s beginning to accept that Kirby will never love her the same way, but she still can’t shake the numb ache that blossoms in her chest when she thinks about Kirby cutting Fallon out of her life completely. 

“Can I even take Xanax right now?” Kirby shrieks. Fallon can hear her footsteps pacing back and forth. 

“Keep your voice down. I’m pretty sure you don’t want Fallon included in this conversation.”

“I thought she’d be at Evvie’s for the night,” Kirby says, and Fallon can practically hear her spit the name out. “God, she’s gay for ten minutes and she’s already a pro at uhauling. And what grown woman calls herself Evvie anyways? Like, it’s not edgy, it just makes you sound five.”

“Kirby Anders, I _know_ that isn’t judgement coming from the woman who just slammed a pregnancy test down on my kitchen table.”

Fallon freezes.

“I just- you know,” Kirby says quietly. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, I know,” Monica says. “And trust me, we will talk about that later. But let’s focus on this now. What are you gonna do if it’s positive?”

There’s the rustle of a box opening, then a pause. “Monica, I can’t have a baby with him.”

“You can’t have a baby with him _now_ , or you can’t have a baby with him?” Monica asks. Kirby doesn’t reply, and Fallon hears the bathroom door slam shut behind her. 

“Fallon, I know you’re there.”

Fallon cringes, slowly walking into the kitchen to see Monica standing with her arms crossed. “I was hungry?” she tries. Monica raises an eyebrow. “Okay, fine, I _was_ hungry, but then I heard you and I just kind of stayed out here. But I mean, pregnant? How could she be so stupid?” Fallon can feel a sense of panic settling into her chest where the numb was. It’s not that Kirby and Adam didn’t feel real before, but it’s so much more permanent when she’s having a baby with him. She pictures that stupid wedding again, but this time there’s a flower girl with Kirby’s hair and Adam’s eyes (which just so happen to be Fallon’s, too) and Fallon squeezes her eyes shut to try to block the image out of her mind. 

Monica scoffs. “Did you miss the part where she was panicking? I don’t think it was intentional, Fallon,” Monica says. “Besides, she might not even be pregnant. One missed period doesn’t necessarily mean anything.” 

Neither of them hears Kirby finish up, but they hear the scoff when Kirby walks in. “Of course you were spying on me,” she says. “May as well share with the class: I’m not pregnant.” She waves the test in the air, then flops into a chair. “Thank fuck.” 

_Not pregnant_. A rush of relief passes through Fallon. There’s no baby. She’s not gonna have to spend the rest of her life pretending like she’s so happy for them like the entire concept doesn’t still half-break her heart. Her first instinct is to reach out for Kirby, but she suppresses that urge far down into her gut. 

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“For what?” Fallon doesn’t think she’s ever heard Kirby sound so harsh, and her eyes snap up to see an angry blush on her cheeks. “Completely disappearing? Not even bothering to tell me what had you so upset in the first place? Ambushing us with a girlfriend? Or just for listening in on what was obviously a private conversation?”

“You were screaming in my kitchen!” Fallon says. She rubs her temples. “No, that’s not how I wanted to respond. Fuck. Look, Kirby, I’m really sorry. For all of that. It’s been a hard couple of months.”

Kirby’s face softens from anger into hurt. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t feel like you could come to me,” she says, wrapping her arms around herself. “I thought we were friends.”

“It’s complicated,” Fallon says, avoiding Kirby’s eyes. This really isn’t something she wants to explain.

“What’s so complicated about it? Did you think I would judge you?” When Fallon doesn’t immediately respond, Kirby lets out a little laugh and steps forward. “God, you’re late to the party. Fallon, I’m bi.”

“Oh.” Fallon had thought she was mostly over Kirby, but those three words make her heart stop in her chest. Her mind races towards dangerous thoughts, and if she doesn’t get control of herself she’s gonna ruin yet another relationship. 

With Evvie. She’s with Evvie, who is sweet and kind and funny and smells like oranges and lavender. Evvie, who has been patient and doesn’t judge her for the chaos that is her life. Evvie, who will never understand her like Kirby does. 

“Fuck.” Kirby says, dropping her head into her hands.

“What’s wrong? I thought you were happy not to be pregnant,” Fallon says, failing to force all the snark out of her voice. “I mean, God, the world doesn’t need another Carrington running around right now.”

Kirby looks at her like she kicked her puppy. “That’s the problem.” She slumps over in the chair. “I feel like even if it’s not the right time at all, I should be able to see that sometime in the future but I can’t. You know?”

Fallon had kind of forgotten about Monica, who’s smirking at them from the corner when she says, “Oh, Fallon knows.”

Kirby sits up a little more. “Oh, is that what happened with Liam? I knew you weren’t telling me the whole story.”

“No, some of us are smart enough to get IUDs,” Fallon says, stiffening at the mention of Liam and shooting Monica a dirty look. Monica shrugs back and Fallon feels like a coward. She’ll explain eventually, just… not when she still kind of wants to kiss Kirby every once in a while.

Kirby looks her up and down. “Guess you don’t even need it, now. The joys of sleeping with women.” She smiles at herself. Fallon ignores the pangs of jealousy that pop up when she thinks of Kirby in bed with another woman. “So if it wasn’t the future, what was it?”

Fallon stares at the counter, and Kirby pops out of the chair, getting up close and staring at her. She can smell that shea butter that she knows Kirby uses every night and feels her cheeks warm. There’s no way in hell she’s telling Kirby anything. Unfortunately, Kirby knows her, and when Fallon finally looks up to tell Kirby to fuck off, there’s an impish glint in her eyes. 

“It was a sex thing,” she says confidently, leaning against the counter and smirking when Fallon’s blush intensifies. There’s not even a question in there. Monica bursts into laughter.

“Oh my god, she called it,” she says between giggles. “She fucking got it on the first try!”

“It was the second,” Fallon snaps.

Kirby leans forward, resting her chin in her hand and looking at Fallon curiously. If Fallon didn’t know any better, she’d call the eyes Kirby’s giving her flirtatious. 

“Hmm,” she says. “Wonder what it was. Let’s see. Maybe you wanted him to take more control in bed? He couldn’t perform? Did he call out someone else’s name in bed?”

“That is for me to know and you to _never_ find out,” Fallon says defensively. She spins on Monica. “And if you tell her anything else, I’ll tell Jeff how you lost your virginity.” She winks, spinning on her heel and walking away. Kirby’s laughter and Monica’s indignant shrieks echo after her down the hallway.

* * *

“Jesus Christ, Fallon, she’s fucking in love with you.”

They’ve been having drinks with Kirby and Monica on a Tuesday, and again Fallon had thought everything between Evvie and Kirby had been going just fine and dandy until Evvie had dragged her into the kitchen to start _this_ fight.

“Evvie, no,” Fallon says, shoving the weird feeling in her chest back down. There was absolutely no way. “She literally just dumped my brother, of all people.”

Evvie throws her hands up. She takes a step toward Fallon, fire in her eyes and her mouth set into a hard line. She’s never seen Evvie so far past the precipice of calm. 

“I’m not crazy,” she says. “All fucking night. She’s been flirting with you all night, like I’m not here. And you’ve just been sitting there and letting her.”

“That’s just ridiculous. It’s just how we are together, Ev. There’s nothing to worry about. It’s not flirting.” The words feel heavy on her tongue. It’s not a lie, necessarily, but it still kind of feels like one when Fallon knows she’s not completely over Kirby. It feels kind of defensible when she knows she probably never will be.

“Oh, I’m ridiculous?” Evvie asks, raising her voice. Fallon shrinks back at the bite in her voice. That was definitely the wrong thing for her to say. “You two weren’t acting this way when she was dating your brother.”

“That- that was just because it was awkward that she was dating my brother, Evvie. It has nothing to do with anything else.”

Evvie stares at Fallon for a beat, and Fallon squirms where she’s perched on the counter of the kitchen. The same counter where when Kirby had put the negative pregnancy test down, Fallon had felt like she could breathe again. The same kitchen where Kirby had admitted to Fallon that she was bi. Realization creeps into Evvie’s eyes and quickly morphs into a hurt that Fallon hasn’t seen on anyone since Liam figured out she wasn’t going to move in with him. Fallon closes her eyes and takes a breath, because she knows what’s coming next.

“You’re in love with her too,” Evvie says, starting to laugh hysterically. “Oh my god, Fallon. What the fuck? Was I just some sort of a placeholder for you? Your little lesbian experiment until Kirby got her head out of her ass?”

Fallon’s eyes snap open. “No,” she says softly. “No, Evvie. I really like you.” She doesn’t bother to refute the rest of the claim. Evvie already knows. No point arguing now.

“But you love her.” Evvie laughs again. “No. Fuck this. I’m not sticking around until you get your shit together. Bye, Fallon.”

She storms past Fallon and into the entryway, grabbing her coat off the rack. Fallon follows her, not really sure what her intent is but not feeling like the conversation is over. She leans against the doorway into the living room where Kirby and Monica are pretending like they couldn’t hear the screaming. Fallon’s just hoping that the kitchen is far enough away that they couldn’t make out the words.

Evvie spins around one last time after wrenching the door open, venom in her eyes. Despite how angry she knows Evvie is, she’s still taken aback by the sheer fire in them. Evvie glances at Kirby, rolling her eyes and making a noise of disgust. Fallon’s stomach drops.

“Go fuck yourself, Fallon. Or better yet, go fuck her.”

* * *

When Kirby knocks on her door later that night, Fallon is sitting on her bed and staring at the wall. Kirby steps into the room, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms.

“Getting dumped by a girl sucks worse,” she says. “They’re really good at finding just the right thing to say to hurt you.”

Fallon shrugs. It’s not really a hurt, but more of a numb feeling that she can feel spreading in her fingertips. In reality, she’s not sure if it’s because Evvie left her or because she knows Evvie was right. Yet again, Fallon’s managed to ruin a perfectly good thing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kirby asks, making her way over and sitting with Fallon on the bed. When she puts a hand on her knee, Fallon just kind of wants to cry. There’s only one thing she knows Evvie was wrong about.

“Not particularly,” Fallon says, shrugging the hand off and ignoring the flash of hurt that crosses Kirby’s face. “I kind of deserved it.” 

“I’m sure that isn’t true.”

“Ha,” Fallon says dryly. “I can count this as the third relationship I’ve single-handedly torpedoed into the ground within what, a year? I don’t think I get the benefit of the doubt anymore.”

She picks at a thread on the blanket between them. Kirby reaches her hand over again, this time taking Fallon’s hand in hers. Fallon looks up at her, shivering a bit at the warm affection plain on Kirby’s face. This kind of emotional vulnerability is new for the two of them.

“The worst part is I can’t even bring myself to be sad about it,” Fallon says with a huff. “I mean, what does all of that say about me as a person?”

“That you’re human?” Kirby says, shrugging. “With all the weird complex reactions to match. And probably that this has been coming for a while.” She smiles wryly, running her free hand over Fallon’s back. Fallon thinks this might be the most Kirby’s ever touched her, and she feels a blush of shame spread over her face. Kirby looks at her thoughtfully. “What’d that last quip mean?”

Fallon pulls herself free from Kirby. She tries to fit an incredulous smirk onto her face. “Of all the people, she thought you had a thing for me,” she says. Fallon can’t read Kirby’s face.

“Okay,” Kirby said evenly. “And why would that bother her so much? I mean, it’s not like…” She trails off. “Oh.”

Fallon can feel her face grow warm. She gets up to leave the room, but Kirby yanks her back down to the bed. Her skin tingles where Kirby had grabbed her arm.

“No, Fallon,” she says. “You can’t just say that and then try to walk away from me.”

“I wasn’t going to say _anything_ , Kirby. I know where we stand, okay? I’m happy we’re friends. I don’t want to mess with that.”

Kirby stares at her and Fallon can see the gears in her mind working. Kirby opens her mouth to say something, but seems to think better of it. Fallon gets up to leave again, her stomach twisting with regret. Kirby doesn’t stop her as she walks out.

* * *

Kirby doesn’t try to bring up what Evvie said again, for which Fallon is immensely grateful. She and Kirby are still trying to re-establish a friendship, much less anything more. Drinks out with Monica on Tuesday evenings become their norm, and Fallon invites Sam and Kirby for brunch a few times. She’s careful to always include a buffer between them, because even though the general awkwardness subsides, she doesn’t want Kirby to think that she’s trying to make a move or anything.

Fallon finally moves out of Jeff and Monica’s place. She looks at a few houses, but they all seem far too big without someone to share it with, so she settles on a condo right by her office. It’s got beautiful big windows that open out over a park and a breakfast nook where she can see herself spending the extra minutes in the morning. If the master bathroom has two sinks and two showerheads, she tries not to let it endear her to it too much. 

She decorates the living room in a way she knows her parents would downright _hate_ , all full of throw pillows and soft fluffy blankets and a giant chair that can fit two people (not that she has a second to put in it). It’s not exactly her typical style, but there’s something so cathartic about coming home from work and being able to snuggle into her couch. 

When she’s all moved in, she invites everyone over for a dinner party. Or rather, she tries to invite them over for a dinner party. It turns out Fallon isn’t nearly as good a cook as she thinks she could be, because when the doorbell rings for the first time, she’s fishing what was _supposed_ to be lemon chicken out of her oven, choking on a cloud of smoke.

“It’s open,” she shouts. She figures it’s probably Sam, who insists on being inordinately early to everything just in case he misses something. The head that pops around the door is Kirby, though, and Fallon can feel her heart rate pick up as Kirby comes closer. This is the first time they’ve actually been alone since Kirby had figured out how Fallon felt about her.

“So, how’s dinner going?” Kirby asks, a glint in her eye as she sizes up the smoke emanating from the dish. Fallon glares at her, grabbing a knife and trying to cut into it to see if it’s at all salvageable.

“It’s still cold inside,” Fallon whines. “I followed the recipe and everything.”

Kirby looks at the cookbook, pretending to think for a minute. “Well, let’s see. Did you use the right amount of chicken?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And did you pan-sear it before putting it in the oven?” she asks, leaning closer to Fallon to look over the dish. If she notices Fallon’s breath catch as her red hair falls across her cheek, Kirby is gracious enough not to mention it. Fallon steps away, grabbing the pan still on the oven to shake it at her.

“That’s what it said to do.”

Kirby pauses, a glint in her eye. She leans closer again, looking Fallon dead in the eyes. Fallon can see the specks of green that pepper her brown eyes. 

“Fallon, did you remember to defrost the chicken?” Kirby asks. Fallon can feel her cheeks grow warm and she sputters for a second, then tosses the oven mitt off her hand and into the sink.

“I give up,” she says. “I’m not a cook. I resign myself to Postmates until the day I die.”

“Aww, poor baby,” Kirby says, dancing her fingers down Fallon’s arm. Fallon shivers, and Kirby smirks. “Lucky for you, you’ve got a master chef right here.”

“Yeah? You can whip up a nice dinner in the-” Fallon glances at the clock above her stove, “Twenty minutes I have before Sam and Monica and Jeff get here?”

Kirby holds up a finger, bounding towards the door and whipping it open. She reappears carrying a reusable grocery bag, a grin on her face. Setting it down on the counter, she produces a big bowl and a pan.

“I figured you might not do so hot all on your lonesome, so I brought backup,” she says. “Set the oven to 350, will you?”

Fallon stares at her, and Kirby takes her silence as an invitation to reach past Fallon and do it herself. Fallon’s pretty sure that Kirby doesn’t notice that she brushes her fingers across her hips doing so. She’s not sure if she wants to kick Kirby for thinking she couldn’t do this or kiss her for saving her ass. Kissing her is firmly off the table, though, so she settles for the first option.

“You brought backup? You have such little faith in me!” What was supposed to convey anger comes out as a whine, and Kirby’s forehead wrinkles as she smiles at Fallon.

“You’re welcome, Fallon,” she says, bustling about the kitchen as she slips what winds up being a lasagne into the oven and tosses the salad with the dressing she’s brought. Fallon’s mind slips into dangerous thoughts of coming home to Kirby doing this every day. She pushes herself up to sit on the counter, watching Kirby work. Kirby steals the apron that Fallon had hung next to her pantry, and the domesticity of the scene makes Fallon’s heart ache a little bit.

“So, Fallon, you got yourself a little housewife?” Sam asks when he walks in a few minutes later. Fallon moves to smack him, but her heart stops when Kirby just smiles and shrugs.

“Wouldn’t be the worst gig,” she says, winking at Fallon. It gets a little harder for Fallon to breathe.

* * *

The next time Kirby shows up with dinner, it’s a stray Thursday and Fallon’s been stressing so much about a Fallon Unlimited acquisition that she kind of forgot that dinner was supposed to be a thing. She’s sitting in her office, pouring over financial reports, and it’s probably pretty bad that she doesn’t hear the door open, but in her _defense_ she only gave one person a key. When Kirby sticks her head in, Fallon blinks, initially thinking she might be hallucinating.

“I brought dinner,” she says in a singsong voice, holding out a pot that smells divine. “Chili.”

Fallon stares at her for a second. “Why?”

“Well, have you eaten yet?” When Fallon shakes her head, Kirby makes a noise. She reaches out, grabbing her hand and pulling her away from the desk. Fallon lets her, still confused by what’s happening here. “Exactly. You never eat when you’re stressed.”

When Kirby drags her into the kitchen, Fallon notices that she’s already set the table for two. Kirby makes herself busy pouring Fallon a glass of the red wine she’s brought.

“Kirby?” Fallon asks. “How long have you been in my house?” Kirby just smiles and shrugs at her. “Great. Remind me to yell at Sam for this.”

If it were anyone else, she thinks she might be upset, but Kirby feels like she _belongs_ here. If pressed, Fallon might admit that it’s because these kinds of evenings were exactly what she pictured when she first saw this kitchen. Kirby brushes her hand along Fallon’s back as she sits down. She aches a little bit at this, struggling to remind herself that Kirby is here as a caring friend and nothing more.

“So, how was your day?” Kirby asks, swishing the wine around in her own glass as Fallon serves herself.

“Well, this is the first meal I’m eating today, if that tells you anything,” Fallon says sheepishly, ducking away when Kirby reaches across to slap her shoulder. “Hey now, I’m pretty sure physically assaulting me cancels out the good karma you earned making me dinner.”

“Boo hoo,” Kirby says, a sparkle in her eye. “Guess I’ll just have to feed you dessert, too.”

Dessert turns out to be a homemade strawberry rhubarb cobbler with vanilla ice cream, and they move to the nest of a couch to eat it. Kirby falls back into the couch with an audible groan, curling herself around Fallon’s favorite blue fluffy throw pillow.

“Fallon, I’m never leaving this spot. You’re gonna have to do the cooking from now on and bring me food so I can become one with this couch. There’s a fire extinguisher for when you burn stuff.”

Fallon rolls her eyes at the dramatics, squeezing in between Kirby and the corner and tossing a flannel blanket over the both of them. Kirby shifts further under the blanket, nuzzling herself into the couch and (probably accidentally) also Fallon’s side as she scoops the last of her cobbler into her mouth.

“So, are we gonna watch a movie?” she asks hopefully. Fallon feels like her eyelids are about to snap shut and she’s wondering if maybe her lips are made of lead, but an easy evening with Kirby on the couch is something straight out of a fantasy, so she nods and hands Kirby the remote.

* * *

The last thing she remembers is watching Annie hallucinate on a plane, but when she wakes up, sunlight is poking through the window and Kirby is wrapped around her like a koala. Her AXFC sweatshirt has slipped to expose a pale freckled shoulder, and Fallon can see last night’s eyeliner smudged around her eyes. Trying not to let her mind run away from her too much, Fallon takes a moment to watch the easy rise and fall of her chest. She can so acutely picture doing this every day with Kirby. Before she even realizes what she’s doing, she’s reaching out and smoothing a stray lock of hair behind Kirby’s ear.

Kirby opens her eyes at the touch and Fallon’s heart is already pounding out of her chest because she knows that Kirby is about to sit up and push her off, telling her that she doesn’t feel the same way. Instead, though, Kirby smiles up at her, wrinkling her brow. While Fallon just stares, dumbfounded, Kirby leans up, capturing her lips and making a little noise in the back of her throat when Fallon leans into it before she can help herself. Kirby’s lips are _so_ soft, and Fallon runs her tongue along the spot where she knows Kirby bites her lip before pulling back slightly to look at her. 

“God, I’ve been wanting to do that _forever_ ,” Kirby says, taking Fallon’s arm and tucking herself firmly under it. She beams at Fallon, and damn if the sparkle in her eyes didn’t make Fallon want to kiss her all over again.

Fallon runs her fingers over the soft exposed skin at Kirby’s shoulder and she blinks a few times, figuring it’ll probably wake her up if it’s just another dream. When she opens her eyes, though, Kirby is still nestled in her arms, looking at Fallon like she’s the only thing in the world. She quirks her head, pursing her lips into a smile as she lets Fallon catch up.

“What do you mean you’ve wanted to do that forever?” Fallon asks, sitting them up. Kirby grumbles as she reaches back out for Fallon, snuggling into her side. She sighs happily when she tucks herself into place, reaching up to press a kiss to Fallon’s jaw. “Kirb, it’s not that I’m really happy right now, but I really need more of an explanation.”

Kirby shrugs. “I like you,” she says, punctuating the statement with an easy kiss to Fallon’s lips. “What more is there to it?”

Fallon sputters, staring incredulously at Kirby. Kirby leans into her again, deepening the kiss and flipping Fallon onto her back so she can climb on top of her. She grins, tucking a curl behind Fallon’s ear in a mirror of Fallon’s own earlier actions. 

“You done overthinking this yet?” she teases. Fallon blushes. “Aww, you’re adorable. I think I’ll keep you.”

She laughs when this just makes Fallon blush harder. Fallon, not to be outdone, leans up and shuts her up with another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to my roommate, who let me bully her into being my beta


End file.
